Die Another Day
by The Amazing Wonder Ninja
Summary: Matt was never the type to take the backseat, or go quietly. He's not afraid to die. But sometimes, picking fights can get you in way over your head. Now, with people theatening his life in the least expected moments, what will he do? strong languge.
1. Chapter 1

Die Another Day

1

[Matt]

Another day, another drama. Jeez.

Mello's yelling again. Is that all he does? I take a long drag on my cancer stick, and flick it nonchalantly onto the floor once I'm through. He seems to be under the assumption that I'm actually listening. Which I'm not, so I just nod at convenient moments, and eye the flare gun resting on the scuffed coffee table. Heh, I wonder what Mello would do if I decided to shoot a flare at him. Maybe he'd shut up. Yeah, he'd wave his gun at me, give me the evil eye, but c'mon. Really. He's all bluff. It's not like he'd actually shoot me- or anyone- he's too in love with his bloody death note. I reach over the back of the musty armchair that Mello likes so much, and snatch my sheepskin vest, pulling my pack of ciggs from the pocket. One left. I interrupt his Near-based rant by stretching, and heading for the door to the apartment.

"Yeah, I'm going out for a few, I'm out of smokes." He glares, in a very "respect my authority" way, grunts, and dominates the chair, leaning over his laptop. I shut the door behind me with a rusty click, and my feet make slight thunking noises on the squeaky hallway. Once outside, I slide into my red mustang with a satisfied sigh.

Finally. Freedom.

I leave the doors unlocked on the drive to the jiffy-mart on the corner, and leave the keys in the ignition and the door open as I walk inside. I'm just begging for a fight. I finger the gun concealed in my pocket. I would so win if anyone even tried to steal my car.

"Hey, hi, I'll take on of those." I point to the twenty pack I want, and glance out toward my car. "Make it snappy, I don't have all day." I throw some change at the girl behind the register, not really caring if it's not enough. I'll be gone before she counts it all. I slide back into the driver's seat, and fish out a new cigarette before peeling out of the parking lot, running a red light in the process.

Hey, what's life without thrills?

I've gotta do something to make people notice number three. Me. I'm just begging to be noticed. We'll see how long it takes for me to get caught.

I'm on my third cigg by the time I get back the apartment. One of the good things about Mello, he lets me smoke inside. So I'll be done with the pack in a few hours.

You might smoke for pleasure. I smoke to die.

I slam the door shut, and open the door, about to buzz myself in before turning back and pressing the lock button on the key-lock for my car. I had just put the key in the door to the lobby, when I'm lifted off my feet by a shock wave. My ears don't recognize the rumble, and the chaos for a moment. It reminds me of when Mello got blown up, and suddenly I realize why.

My car just blew up. I pressed the lock button…and my car blew up. I shake broken glass off me, and climb through the shattered window of the door into the lobby, and run upstairs to where Mello is.

"Holy Mary Mother of God!" he shouts, grabbing his rosary off the bed, then his flare gun, before shaking his head, dropping it again, and diving beneath the couch for a different, more lethal weapon. "Your car just blew up!"

"Yes, by now I had actually realized that bit of information." I reply snarkily. My head is pounding, and my ears are ringing from the explosion. If I hadn't been halfway inside already…

"You could've been killed!" he's really flipping out. He throws his laptop and cell into a leather messenger bag, drags me outside to his yellow hummer, and shoves me inside. He's in the driver's seat before I can blink, and we peel out, into a back alley, leaving a cloud of smoke in our wake, indiscernible from that of the explosion. His brows are knitted, and he glares out from beneath them, his pupils dilated. Once we're on the interstate and headed for the desert, he breaks the tense silence with a question I had been formulating the answer to since we left.

"What happened?"

"The bomb was rigged to the lock. Whoever planted it assumed I'd lock the doors while inside, and the only reason I didn't was because I didn't feel like it. I'm only alive because I was almost inside before I remembered to lock it."

He ponders this, obviously trying to figure out who would want to blow me up. After all, how many enemies do I have? I don't remember any. It was directed at me specifically, if they had wanted to get Mello they'd have rigged the hummer. Or the chocolate cabinet. Either one. We sit in stern silence until nightfall, when he seems to come to some sort of decision. I look up from my cell phone games in time to see him warily press the lock button. I close my eyes.

And nearly piss myself when there's a loud clunk, and a thud. Mello must have jumped too, because he jerks the wheel, and the tires squeal as we spin off the road into the desert before he slams on the brakes. We both realized in about a half a second that we hadn't blown up, and he looks embarrassed, in a pissy sort of way. We open the doors, and he checks the front of the car, which now has a nice dent in the front. I glance back at the highway, partially illuminated by the headlights, and see part of a coyote, spread out across the road.

A coyote. We hit a fucking coyote.

This day just gets better and better. I flick my cigg down on the animals remains, and trot back to Mello, who's still cussing at the dent. Not like cussing will fix it, dumbass. After waiting in the car for a few more minutes while Mello agonizes over his car, we finally get back on the road. Who _would_ want to kill me?

Enemy 1: Kira. Wouldn't he just kill me, minus the theatrics? So, not kira.

And I don't have an enemy 2. Well, except for the cops, but they don't blow people up. Unless they're L, but he liked me. He wouldn't blow me up. And he's dead, so it doesn't matter anyway.

And then there's Mello. He's never this quiet. He'd usually be pissing and moaning and generally being a pain in the ass. But no. He's all…brooding. Mello does not brood, unless…

He knows something. I'm sure of it.


	2. Russian Roulette

Die Another Day

2

…

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

BLAM.

I awake groggily, the shot ringing in my ears. Mello is slumped in a semi-upright position on the side of the rock-hard hotel mattress, smoking gun still in hand. The alarm clock smolders on the nightstand, and there's a singed hole in the wall behind it from the bullet.

Bloody gee-wiz. Here we go again. Him and his goddamn mood swings.

"The fucking shit mother…" he grumbles under his breath, and shuffles to the grimy bathroom. A roach skitters away before being squished under one of his steel-toed boots. We hadn't even bothered to change once we got here; we just crashed in our clothes. Once he's fully awake, then the whining will begin. It's his fault he slept in his leather, so he shouldn't take it out on me. I inspect the hole in the wall, and gently pry the bullet out. If someone's following us, it sure would be a help to them if we left behind a fucking bullet. They could trace it back to us. There is a hesitant knock on the door, and a nervous Mexican voice commands from the other side.

"El señor, abre por favor la puerta… que un tiro fue oída y si usted no sale inmediatamente, llamarán la policía."

I stash the gun under the pillows, and shift the lamp to cover the hole in the wall. Why do I always have to be the one to cover Mello's ass?

"Era la televisión." I smile in an utterly false manner at the maid at the door, and gesture to the TV. Hopefully she'll buy it. She shifts her weight uncertainly, and her blue linen dress ruffles in the warm Mexican air. Whatever happened to air conditioning? Was it really necessary to flee to Mexico? And while I'm complaining, why can't maids look like those cute little whores they're depicted as?! Mello struts sleepily from the bathroom, and death-glares the maid from behind his hair. His scar twists in unnatural ways, and she squeaks before scampering off down the hallway to the lobby.

"Where's my gun?"

I ignore him, and fish a cigarette from my pocket. Nicotine floods my bloodstream, and I gradually regain my energy. I need coffee. Not the Mexican kind. Good fucking black coffee, from a good fucking American store.

And I'm going to act like a bitch until I get some. Maybe then Mello will see what it's like to have to live with him. I reach behind the pillow, and pull out the gun. I cock it, and point it at his chest, my finger on the trigger. Now, for some information.

"Right here, in my fucking hand. You've got one bullet left, and five chances max to tell me everything you know about who blew up my car."

"What the fuck Matt?! I don't know anything!"

Click.

Mello flinches as I pull the trigger.

"Four more tries, if you're lucky. Now, are you so sure about that?"

"Matt, you fucking psychopath, give me the gun!"

Click.

Flinch.

My hand is shaking now, not from fear but from excitement. It's great to be the one in charge, for once. Here I am, with a mafia leader cowering before me. I laugh, high on a power trip.

"Three tries left…"

"I know how to count, dumbass."

Click.

Flinch.

"I'm not telling you anything! You're not the one in charge, Matt, I am! Without me you'd be nowhere, just a nerd locked away in his room at the orphanage, hacking into area 51 for kicks and jerking off to pictures of ME!"

I fire twice, once at his chest and once at his head. Neither one is deadly, but there's only one shot left. One shot, the shot that will prove fatal. I circle him, smiling, and pin his hands behind his back with one hand, and hold the gun to the base of his skull.

"If you're in charge, how come I have the gun?" I cock it one last time and I'm sure he can feel me shaking. "Tell me what I want to know." I grit out.

"Matt, I swear to god, I don't know." His voice breaks, and when he breathes in, he shudders. I brush the hair softly away from his neck, and press the cold metal against his skin. The small hairs on his neck rise, and he breathes in sharply.

"If you're going to kill me, just fucking do it already."

I pull the trigger.

Click.


	3. Chapter 3

Die Another Day

3

…

Silence rings throughout the room. Mello's breathing hitches, and he tenses, awaiting the pain. We stay that way for at least a half a minute, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Finally, I let him go, and fall backwards onto the bed, my body shaking with laughter. I drop the gun to the floor, and laugh so hard that tears well in the corners of my eyes. Mello stares at me in shock, rubbing his wrists where I had pinned them together.

"Fucking psychopath…" he mutters, retrieving his gun and stashing it in his pants. Once I'm semi-calm again, he launches himself at me and pushes me against the wall by my shirt collar.

"You think that's funny, do you?" he yells, his voice still high pitched from the adrenaline. I smirk.

"Tch. Yeah."

He gets closer, his face so close to mine that I can see exactly where each tongue of flame licked at his face. He grits his teeth, and growls at me.

"Never. Fucking. Do that. Again." I reach down, and gently pull the gun from his crotch. I waggle it in his face tauntingly.

"Got your gun, Mello! What-cha gonna do? Hmmm?"

He swipes a leg behind my knees, and I lose my balance. Spinning on his hands, he brings one steel toed boot up under my chin as I fall, and my head slams in to the wall. Stars erupt in my vision. I spit out blood and squished roach from his shoe, and laugh as my cigarette arcs through the air and lands on his shoulder, igniting his fur lined hood.

"Wow, Mello, you're on fire."

"Stop playing games with me, Matt."

I point at his hood with the barrel of the gun, and smirk.

"Shit!" He scrambles to rid himself of the coat, and flings it onto the bed, which also catches fire.

"Yes, you are a smart one, aren't you?" I say with a sickly sweet smile. He drags me up from the floor, and shoves me out the window.

"Just get in the fucking hummer." He snarls, climbing out the window after me. I cling to the railing, trying to see the fire as it spreads. The lamp falls, and sparks fly from where it landed. A string of fire ignites on the other side of the room, winding across the wall and wrapping around the base of the lamp. It looks like…some sort of flaming invisible string…? I stare deeper into the inferno as it eats away the paint on the walls. A dark shape peers into the door, and I recognize it as the maid. But instead of screaming, or running for water, she stares directly at me.

And smiles.

The shock wave catches me, just as the heat does. I lose my grip on the railing, and find myself flying through two stories worth of flaming air. I land flat on my back, and the wind is completely knocked out of me. I gasp for air, and my arm is blistering with pain, along with both my hands. I sit up, and yank the leather gloves off with my teeth as they melt to my skin. My arm is red and shiny with blood. It looks like Mello's face did. I look around frantically for Mello. A crater smolders in the side of the hotel, and a cactus shrivels away from the heat. Mello is standing on the back bumper of the hummer, breathing hard with panic. The front of the car is scorched and black, and the front tires are half-melted. The red dirt under the car is scorched as well. From the looks of it, the fire went completely around him, and he got stuck inside it. I, on the other hand…

"SHIT!!!" I yell, watching my skin bubble. "Those mother fucking…! Ah, shit Jesus!" dirt sticks to the melted skin, and my hands throb as I force myself into an upright position. Mello jumps down, and scrambles toward me through burning vegetation and rubble. It looks like I got hit by a burning chunk of building.

"What the fuck happened?!"

"It was the fucking maid…! She rigged the lamp to fall, and there was a fucking bomb under it!"

"Where is that bitch, I'll flay her alive." He flicked out a considerably sharp pocket knife.

"Gee, Mello, it's nice to know that you care." I said sarcastically, wincing from the pain in my arm. He looks at me in disdain.

"Not for you, you conceited shit. Look what she did to my car."

Figures, right? The fucking car is more important than my bleeding to death.

"Yeah, how am I going to get to the hospital?" I whined. He rolled his eyes.

"You realize that we are days away from an actual hospital, right? And, they'd blow you up even easier if you were there."

"Did you even bring first aid?"

"Guess what, Matt?"

"It just got blown up?"

"Obviously."

"Go cut me a seat belt from the car would you?"

"What the fuck? No."

I punched him in the face, and stole his knife while he was down. I tie the seatbelt around my arm as a tourniquet. I toss his knife back to him, and set off walking towards the rising sun. nothing to do now, but get the fuck away from the scene before the authorities show up. I get about fifty feet, before Mello pulls up next to me in a hotwired peeling primer-colored ford.

"Want a ride?"

Wow, nine am, and I've already almost killed my partner, gotten blown up, and stolen a car.

Today's going to be great.


End file.
